Detritus of a Liturgical Half Year

Last week, I needed to clear out the back seat of my car. I don't usually let it get so cluttered. I'm not sure how this happened. Lately, I've been dreaming about having to do impossible tasks, like having to teach 5 classes in addition to my 40+ administrative hours or donate my inner organs while still living, but how hard is it to take my stuff inside?

I found bulletins from mid-Advent to Christmas Eve to Easter and many Sundays in between. I found several palms from Palm Sunday. I found Labyrinth related material. I found a faded tie-dyed shirt that I planned to tie dye at a school event--several months ago. I found some playbills: A Chorus Line, The Vagina Monologues, Drinking in America.

Last week I gave blood at church and filled out the 2 page questionnaire about my habits. I felt so boring: no strange needle habits, no sex with Africans, no travel to exotic places, no fascinating food explorations. Granted, I'm healthy, especially for a 43 year old woman, healthy in a way that I might not have been, had my past behavior meant I had to answer those questions differently. My inner voice sneers, healthy, but dull.

Cleaning out my car showed me a different side. It made me wonder about God, and how differently God sees us from how we see us. I've said it before, but it bears repeating: we would be such healthier, happier people, if we could only adopt God's view of ourselves.

Maybe your inner critic is kinder than mine. But nonetheless, it's important to remember that your inner critic--well-meaning or harsh--is not talking in the voice of God. God loves us with a completeness that we only grasp incompletely. God doesn't see us as a bundle of faults or risky behavior. God doesn't see us as boring. We're the ones who cast a harsh light on our past. If only we could stop.